Immortal
by Let's Start Rumors
Summary: Sherlock has risen from his death bed, is it so that his true enemy would be rising from the dead as well? -J. Watson
1. Deduction

Sherlock seemed to be frustrated for most of his time—for many reasons. For example, he was bored…a lot. If he wasn't on a case he was looking for cases from John's Blog. But one thing that made him frustrated was that no one was on his level—he always had to explain himself. Not even himself actually, just the cases. Would it be so difficult for people to observe a little bit? They had such puny brains.

"Her wound is in her right wrist, but the blood is mostly gathered around her left. This wasn't a suicide. "

"We figured as much." Lestrade replied, just a bit insulted. "Do you have anything else?"

"Lots." Sherlock crouched down to get a closer look at the body.

Jewelry

Expensive clothes

Well kept hair.

Clothes Dry cleaned

Manicured nai—_oh what's this?_

Sherlock picked up the hand of the girl to examine her nails. They had been well kept, but they had blood and dirt under them.

He next looked at her legs.

Just has he thought. Light hand marks around her calves.

"Anything Sherlock?" John intruded his mind palace.

"I said lots."

"Let's have it then." Said Anderson's quacking voice.

"Anderson I suggest you leave the room before the body feels your idiocy." He snapped. "Well first, there was a struggle—"

"To drag her here?" Said Lestrade.

"No. Now, if you would let me finish." It was surprising the words smack Lestrade to the other room. "but it was much before she died. Do you see these handprints on her legs? She was holding onto something, pr perhaps digging at something. She was trying to escape. Someone dragged her against her will as she fought back." He pointed at the marks on her arms. "the killer tried to get a better grip, scratched her. She tried to defend herself and scratched him—the blood under her nails."

"So we find the killer with the blood under her nails?" John said.

"No." he said scanning the body again.

"But you just sai-"

"Anderson I thought I asked you to leave."

No replies from anyone.

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, The DNA you will find here is not that of the actual killer. But it is that of the apprentice."

"Apprentice?"

"I know you've heard the word before, John, put it together in your silly little brain."

"The killer didn't want to get his hands dirty. So, he had someone who didn't matter to him do it… but didn't you say it yourself? Serial killers love to be noticed. Why would he hide?"

"Good John, we're making progress. He knew you would call me to the case, he knew that if he did it himself I would figure it out. He wants to playyyy…" He looked at the doctor as he sang his last word with intentions of striking a couple ideas for culprits in John's head.

John's expression said he picked up his hint.

"Well!" Sherlock hopped, "we should really get going! We are very busy. Let's go Johnny-Boy!" Sherlock whipped around and practically pranced out the door. John followed suit. More like dragged by Sherlock's….hmm let's call it charisma. He never really had much of a choice anyway.

"_You do everything he tells you to" _The words of his Ex-girlfriend slapped him right in the face. "_You'd do anything for him"_

Maybe not anything…..But he's your flat mate, your friend….maybe anything….

"_You're a great boyfriend….to Sherlock."_

"I am NOT gay!" John slammed his hand right over his mouth as soon as he realized he said that out loud.

Sherlock stopped moving, but for two reasons. One being that he had waved down a taxi, the other being Johns outburst. He opened the door of the cab, gave John a questioning look and jumped in the car. John followed.

"221B Baker Street." Sherlock told the Cabbie.

They sat in silence for a while. Then Sherlock had to open his Show-Off mouth.

"You really ought to keep your thoughts to yourself."

"Ah, no really? I thought I would just let you hear everything on my mind."

"You say that sarcastically. You don't want me to know everything going on in your head. You're not good at hiding it."

"You're bluffing."

"I never 'bluff'."

"What am I thinking then?"

"Oh don't be silly, I can't read minds. That's absurd. I just know you're thinking about me."

John swallowed. He sighed, trying think of something to say back. "Don't flatter yourself" was the best he could come up with.

"Hm," Sherlock smiled that cocky smile of his. " I wouldn't dream of it."

Back at the apartment, John made some tea while Sherlock got lost in his mind palace—it was best not to interrupt him. He was trying to make sense of it. Moriarty should be dead. Sherlock watched Moriarty take the gun, stick it in his mouth, and pull the trigger. He saw his body hit the ground and the blood drain from his criminal skull. But then again, Sherlock was supposed to be dead, and there he is in the living room. Ms. Hudson was out for a couple of hours—probably grocery shopping and what not. John decided to take his cup of tea and pull out his Lap Top. He decided to update the blog.

**The Return of the Evil "M"**

**John H. Watson**

**April 17, 2012**

**We are not yet authorized to release details on the murder, but it looks as if the nemesis of the great Sherlock has returned. There are too many "back from the dead" stories. I mean I'm not complaining, but really, nobody. Well, at least not in the criminal-detective aspect. First the villain dies, then the hero, then the hero comes back to life and, oh, look what do you know? The villain is back too. But, in all honesty, it's only fair. A hero can't be a hero if it has nothing to save the world from. Technically speaking, Sherlock needs him to be back. He gets bored.**

**But that's another thing, this isn't just a game, to any logical mind at least. Sherlock and M solely believe that its child's play. It's obviously not. They killed each other. But didn't they also bring each other back to life? I don't really know. **

**Anyway, we aren't entirely sure if he is back yet. Sherlock is pretty convinced, **

"**John!"**

**Though—oh, I think Sherlock found something, I'll continue this later.**

_**Author's Note**__**: Oh god, how was it? I tried to be more subtle on the little Johnlock….. Its really hard to do that! Ami going to regret ever writing this? To be honest, I don't have a solid plan on where this is going, so be prepared….I do sort of know what is going to happen. Yay! Review yes? :D ULTIMATE LOVE FOR YOUUUUUUUUUUU.**_


	2. Tea Time

John quickly posted his entry, closed his lap top. Sherlock called to John, probably just to use him as a listening device—that happened a lot. He tended to be just a pair of ears to Sherlock half the time. He was OK with it, though. It was much better than him ranting to a skull. At least when he shared his thoughts to john he didn't look quite as insane. John walked to where Sherlock was waiting expecting to see a pacing, twitchy detective. Surprisingly, that's not what John saw when he met eyes with Sherlock. What he saw immediately worried him. Sherlock was sitting perfectly still in his chair staring at what seemed like nothing. He looked stumped. Sherlock was never stumped, this was monumental. John wasn't sure if he should say anything or not. He decided he should stay quiet, Sherlock would speak up eventually. He sat down in the chair opposite Sherlock

"I watched him," Sherlock started, rage and confusion drowning his previously unoccupied expression. "I _watched_ him pull the trigger. I watched as he fell, I watched as his eyes paralyzed in death. I watched the blood poor from his shattered skull. He can't be alive, but this can't be anyone else. There has to be a missing piece." Sherlock gritted his teeth in quiet frustration.

Sherlock watched his friend tear the memory apart and slow it down frame by frame. It almost seemed like he could see it himself, like Sherlock was projecting the show from his own eyes. He didn't know what to say. He thought of Baskerville. He remembered seeing the fear in his friend's sharp, unbreakable, grey-blue eyes as he realized he was losing himself—losing control. He went utterly bonkers that night in the café. John had never seen Sherlock in that condition before—or any condition like it for that matter. He always managed to plaster on his poker face, but not there. Sherlock, at least to Johns mind, didn't fear anything. But that night, he said himself he was afraid. The H.O.U.N.D. drug brought out the worst in the detective. Fear wasn't exactly in Sherlock's vocabulary.

Fortunately, this predicament wasn't nearly as bad as Baskerville, but Sherlock's level of inner-turmoil had definitely exceeded its normal standing.

"It's quite possible—" John nearly jumped out of his skin at Ms. Hudson's voice—Soldier-Mode had been shut-off to listen to the baffled detective. Plus, he hadn't expected her to be home for a while. Sherlock, though, hadn't even blinked. "—that it is a complete coincidence…..Would you boys like some tea?" Sherlock ignored their Landlord altogether—coincidences don't exist.

"Yes, please. Some for him too please." John said.

Ms. Hudson returned to the kitchen.

"She has a point, you know. There are always criminals, and there will always be clever criminals. It's very possible that someone is mimicking Moriarty and even more possible that someone just wants to see if they could defeat the undead Sherlock Holmes.

He received no response. Sherlock was either exploring the idea or just straight up ignoring it. It was quiet for a few minutes until Ms. Hudson brought in the tea. John poured himself some and thanked the landlord/housekeeper. She walked out muttering to herself about how she was the landlord and _not_ the housekeeper. Sherlock leaned forward. He placed his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands together underneath his chin. He was still staring off into space. John focused on him and sipped his tea, simply waiting for Sherlock to have an epiphany. Minutes passed willingly through silence. Wait—hadn't Sherlock called John in the room for something?

"What did you need?" The doctor finally said.

Sherlock was obviously tightly woven into his thoughts because when john spoke he jumped. "Pardon?"

"You called me out here for something….what was it?

"Ah, yes. I was going to ask for a favor."

John half expected something totally insane given Sherlock's condition. "what?"

"I needed you to go to the grocery."

And to think John expected something at least exciting."For what?"

"We were running low on tea. But that's all taken care of now!" He smiled and poured himself some of the tea Ms. Hudson brought in.

**Author's Note: Sherlock, you so silly.**

**Sorry this Chapter is really short, I wanted to make it longer but I felt like it needed to end on a happy note-plus, I plan on updating tomorrow, with (hopefully) a longer chapter. Thank you! Reviews are always nice btdubs :) **


	3. I Am Locked

**The Return of the Evil "M" –continued**

** John H. Watson**

** April 18, 2012**

** There are no new signs of Sherlock's nemesis—it has only been one day, so no one expected there to be. Yesterday Sherlock wasn't in very good shape—he sat still, and for those of you who might know, that is very strange for him. He can hardly ever sit still. Luckily though, it didn't last long. Our Housekeeper/Landlady brought us some tea, and Sherlock snapped right back to life—no pun intended. After the glass of life elixir, Sherlock came up with a few ideas. Fortunately for you, we **_**can **_**share them because they're Sherlock's personal mental whereabouts. Many of his theories though we just insane, but if it **_**is**_** Moriarty we're dealing with then insane is just the type of theories we should be looking for. Surprisingly enough, though, some of his ideas didn't involve Moriarty at all.**

** Sherlock's mind, at first though had completely shut down for whatever reason and just threw out all possibilities and only attended to the impossibilities (which is why he had such a difficult time functioning—I think).**

** Anyway, I don't plan on boring you with all of Sherlock's Jibber-Jabber and I'll try to keep it short and to-the-point. He came up with a bunch of theories but we quickly ruled out most of them and were left with the three most likely. The first, being the least likely, was that it was just a new criminal ready to face the open challenge of defeating Sherlock Holmes (which was actually **_**my**_** first suggestion.) It seemed too simple though, so that's why it's the least likely. The second thing that we came up with was that Moriarty was just gambling when he shot himself and managed not to hit anything fatal when he shot himself, but this was also unlikely. We decided that because even if he **_**hadn't**_** hit anything, he would need more than two years to recover enough to where he could play an even game. Our third theory, and also my favorite, was that Moriarty had a successor. We all know Moriarty, and he's not the type of man to go down without a plan. We figured there was no way that he would just shoot himself and that was the end of it. No, he knew Sherlock would find a way out of dying. Even then he didn't know if the fall would actually kill him, he **_**had**_** to have a back-up plan. Moriarty may be dead but his legacy lives on through another man. We have no idea who or what relation they had to Moriarty but we're almost positive that they do exist. We're going to go out and do a little investigating, look for more clues from the body and crime scene.**

** If you happen to come across anything, or come up with theories of your own, do let us know.**

John finished and posted his piece for the day. He and Sherlock _were_ going out to look at the body. They took a cab to the mortuary, where they came across Molly who was examining something under a microscope.

"Hello," Said Sherlock's deep voice. Molly jumped, not only because of the broken silence, but because she recognized the voice.

"H-hello," she was blushing uncontrollably.

Sherlock squinted, "Are you wearing perfume?"

"Y-yeah. It's a change from the smell of dead bodies." She tried to defend herself against Sherlock's immediate deductions.

"I like the smell of flesh better."

_Good thing Donovan wasn't here to hear that,_ John thought.

Molly swallowed nervously and led the boys to the body she assumed they were there to look at. Sherlock examined the body quietly making notes in his head. John tried to look as smart but didn't bother coming up with anything that wasn't obvious—there probably wasn't anything he would notice that Sherlock hadn't noticed already.

Sherlock looked for something he didn't see at the crime scene. A trademark, perhaps, or a special…feature…?

"What did you know about the body, Molly?" Molly was surprised to hear Sherlock address her with an important question.

"U-uh, her body was completely drained of its blood, if that helps."

Sherlock's mind went to work.

There wasn't enough blood in the apartment to be all of her blood.

They drained all of her blood and placed some on the crime scene.

They kept some of the blood.

Where?

They would use it to lure him in.

They're going to use it to send a message.

Another clue.

The body.

The scars.

The cause of death left a mark in the right wrist.

Unless it wasn't the cause of death.

He checked the bruises on her arms and legs.

She had been dragged

She put up a fight

They were taking her somewhere

To be beaten

To be killed.

Moriarty's successor wouldn't just beat people for the hell of it.

There was a message. He again looked at the scratches and bruises left.

Morse code.

Genius.

He took out a piece of paper and wrote out the pattern of dots and lines ant put it back in his pocket.

"Good, thank you Molly. We will be off now. "

John thanked Molly and said goodbye. The pair headed outside where the cab was waiting and got in.

"221B Baker street." he said to the cab driver.

"What was that you were writing earlier?" john asked.

"Morse code. The killer left a note. Isn't that lovely?" He smiled.

"Mind if I look at it?"

Sherlock reached into his pocket and showed it to John. John analyzed it for just a few seconds before he muttered what it said. He looked confused as he said it, "Sherlocked."

Sherlock smiled as he remembered who it was. He knew it wasn't who they were looking for, but he knew where to go to find more clues.

_**Author's Note**__**: Muahahaha! Sorry X) if you don't know who they're talking about I will be disappointed and you need to go back and watch Season 2, Episode 1 again. Thanks for reading guys, and I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday like I said. My sister was all like "I'm going to use the computer ALL DAY." But yeah, I don't want to promise anything but I should have another chapter up tomorrow, or Monday. Tuesday at the absolute latest, but hopefully it doesn't come to that. Thank you and I love reviews! **_


	4. Story Time

"Let's celebrate!" Sherlock had been acting much too cheerful. They didn't really find much but Sherlock was acting like they solved the greatest mystery in existence. They hadn't solved a mystery at all. In fact, John thought, if anything they had another mystery to solve. What did "Sherlocked" have to do with anything? If anything it's kind of creepy, and it sounds like somebody is crazy obsessed with his friend. People should stop obsessing over him. Like, Moriarty for example—completely consumed. And Sherlock only returned the attention, and they might be having another go at it.

"Celebrate what? We haven't accomplished anything."

"Oh, John but we have!" Sherlock was practically prancing around the room at this point. "We found our next big clue! Come on! Be more excited! Let's go out! Let's have dinner!"

There were a few seconds of silence following Sherlock's offer as John considered it. "Fine, but you're paying for it"

"Let us be off, then!"

The pair grabbed their coats as walked out the door. They stood outside, waiting for a cab for about 5 minutes before Sherlock was overcome with his usual impatience.

"What is taking so long? What does it take to ride in a cab?"

John had to hold back laughter at Sherlock's agitation. "it's only been a few minutes, how long ago did you call the cab?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, then stopped for a second and thought—but for _just_ a second. "I thought you called them."

"No," The two started giggling. "Shall we just walk then?"

Sherlock lock threw up his arms bringing attention to the practically freezing night, "I don't see why not."

And the Consulting detective and his Soldier walked off in the direction of the café.

"We did not expect them to go out, sir, do we follow them?"

"No… Let them have their little night out. They'll need it—for what's coming tomorrow," Warned a tall ominous figure who stayed peering out of the window. The only light casted in the room was that of a distant lamp post outside.

"It is not my business, sir, but if I may ask sir, what is it that's happening tomorrow?"

The lanky figure turned to meet the eyes of the curious little pawn. He stared deep into his eyes. as menacing as it was, the pawn did not move. But as the tall man moved closer, pounding step by each pounding step his heart pounded as well. It was like his footsteps were in control of the pawns heartbeat. But still, he stood his ground until the figure's face was only inches away from his—but only because of his height. A dark smile poisoned the villain's lips.

The silence was deafening. The pawn heart expanded in his chest. It filled his head and was beating in his ears. His breathes became shaky, but he tried to hide it. He wished with every shaking muscle and bone in his body that he had never even walked in the room. The shadowy figure stood watching the fear in his pawn's eyes. They got scared so easily. The monster moved his hand and touched his fingertips to the pawn's chest. He could feel the pathetic heartbeat quicken. He felt the air cavities convulse as they searched for air. He waited just a second longer, simply enjoying feeling another person's fear.

Then like that he pushed the pawn away, and the pawn ran out, not worrying about an answer.

"Good morning, Ms. Hudson." Sherlock greeted the Landlady

"Good morning, Sherlock, How are you this morning?"

"I am doing fine, I could use some tea, though," he replied opening a newspaper.

"But I'm not you're housekeeper."

"Just some hot water would be nice—john can take care of the rest, he should be getting up soon anyway—JOHN!"

"OK then, but don't make a routine out of this, I won't be doing you favors like this everyday."

Sherlock looked up at her and smiles "Of course not."

A few minutes later John stumbled in the room with sleep still thrown all over his face—fortunately though he decided to put day-clothes one, whereas Sherlock was still in his pajamas and silk blue robe.

"Good morning John," Sherlock didn't look up from what he was reading.

"What did you call me out here for?"

"I need you to make some tea."

"You woke me up so I could make you tea?"

Sherlock looked up at him, "Well, you can have some too."

The doctor shook his head and went into the kitchen .

"John, you should read this article."

"Why? Did you find something to help the case?"

"No, not at all. I just wish to show you how oblivious journalists are."

"You should cut them some slack. We can't all have minds like the great Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock raised and unimpressed brow, "No, but I can."

It was too quiet for John to hear, but he didn't bother saying it louder, for another article actually _did_ catch his attention. "_THE STORYTELLER: BIOGRAPHY OF AN ACTOR KILLED BY HIS TIES TO HIS JOB Author: Kitty Riley"_

"Why this long after his death, would they put out his article now?" Sherlock mumbled to himself.

His eyes scanned the article, looking for loopholes—he never could trust that Kitty Riley person, no, she supported his enemy. One thing especially caught his eye "_this sad story of the local actor, Richard Brooke, could have been completely avoided if the _criminal_ Sherlock Holmes were arrested for his crimes immediately, but instead our local police department did nothing to bring justice upon the children they had accused him of kidnapping. So who here is really to blame? The self-employed, so-called "consulting detective" or our very own justice system?" _

_ Self employed?_ Sherlock thought, _ I am not "employed."_

"What's that?" John asked, bringing in the tea. He sat across Sherlock.

Sherlock though, had been sitting long enough, so he stood and handed the newspaper to john. "Third article titled 'the storyteller'. Look at the 3 sentence in the second paragraph. Can you tell me what is wrong with that?"

John took much longer than Sherlock thought to examine it. "I don't know…."

"Come one, John, you've followed me around, watched me, you have to have observed some of my skills."

"I guess it's kind of odd that this should be published now rather than years ago when the murder happened, but I thought that was a given."

"Yes, yes good. Now look at the author, the journalist. Do you remember the red-head that tried to write a story about me? That's her. She came to me before she got involved with Moriarty, she was offended, Moriarty saw that, he tried to use her against me _knowing_ I would forget about her for some time. What can we now infer, John?

Of course Sherlock knew, but he thought he might give the doctor a chance to discover. "Well, then she was told to publish this story at this time. There's a reason."

"Yes!" Sherlock jumped in excitement. "Yes! There is always a reason. Moriarty _knew_ he would be dead, knew _I _would be alive! This is a fantastic clue, do you know why, John? This means that there is full support for our theory that Moriarty has a Successor _and_—"

"Sherlock. What does this have to do with the case?"

"What case?" Sherlock looked…well not confused, but something of that matter.

"The one about the girl, and the message on her back…?"

"Ah, yes….I'm getting there."

John didn't say anything so Sherlock continued. "in this article, there is a clue, probably a cipher of some sort. As you know, Moriarty still, even after his death, wants us to know he is out there. This, is another clue of his. Now what do we know, to unlock this…code? What was it in the murder that told us what the key was to unlocking this?"

This, Sherlock didn't know yet, but he hated that feeling of not-knowing, so, from this point on, _everything_ was a clue.

___**Author's Note:**__** Ah! I officially give you full rights to hate me. I promised you this like a week and a half ago. Though it may be in vein, I ask for forgiveness X) thank you so much, to the like maybe 5 of you that read this X) It means a lot, and I try to put my best out, also if anyone one has any tips on how like the "British" thing is going with my characters and stuff that would be nice. I don't really know what it's exactly like (despite the amount of British television I watch)**_. _**I LOVE YOU ALL!**__** And thank you. Review please! :)**_


	5. Box of Bullets

"_THE STORYTELLER: BIOGRAPHY OF AN ACTOR KILLED BY HIS TIES TO HIS JOB_

_Author: Kitty Riley_

_ Two years ago, London experienced some horrific drama—excuse the pun—and not much information was released to the public. The story goes that the great Professor Jim Moriarty (alleged serial bomber/killer) committed suicide, and so did the infamous Sherlock Holmes soon after—but why? What business did the two have and why in the world, after his "victory", would Holmes want to end his life (only to come back from the dead.) _

_ Information before the suicides was released stating that Holmes was accused of the kidnapping and murder of two children but he was never tried for his crimes. Moriarty turned out to never have existed—in fact, he was just an actor (hired by Holmes) named Richard Brooke. This sad story of the local actor, Richard Brooke, could have been completely avoided if the_criminal_Sherlock Holmes were arrested for his crimes immediately, but instead our local police department did nothing to bring justice upon the children they had accused him of kidnapping. So who here is really to blame? The self-employed, so-called "consulting detective" or our very own justice system?_

_ The Police Department of London denies any relation between Brooke and Moriarty, yet the only evidence they have is Holmes' denial to the accusation. Are our police and their greatest enemy banning together? It appears so as they ignore Holmes' trials, and completely dropped the case between him and Moriarty._

_ Brooke was just an actor. That cannot be said clearly enough. He agreed to act for Holmes, as Jim Moriarty. Holmes, though, requested crazier and crazier things him and Brooke could not find a way out. It seemed that Holmes had forgotten his business alliance with Brooke and was convinced he was a criminal. The afternoon on the roof, no one knows what was said, and no one asked when Holmes came back. But based on all of the previous events, we could only assume it was Brooke's last attempt at convincing Holmes of the game before he killed himself. Holmes was never convinced which led Brooke to shooting himself as a last resort. _

_ That explains Brooke's suicide, but not Holmes'. At this point, Holmes had to complete the great plot which he had staged the entire time, so, for a great climatic scene; he jumped off the edge of a building. After the audience left, Holmes came back to life but Brooke did not. Now a bunch of this may seem like a matter of opinion, but take a look at the facts: Richard Brooke claimed to be an innocent man, but he was not believed. Holmes, though, claimed the opposite. Brooke is dead. Holmes is alive. It is no coincidence that the man who did not want to be tried for his crimes would indirectly murder the man who tried to reveal the truth. _

_ This article is only a display of facts- it is your doing to decide what you think._

Sherlock read the article for about the thousandth time—it was no doubt that this was a clue to something but the more he read it the less faith he had in the author's level of intelligence and ability to create a cipher.

"She called it 'the game' when it was coming from Moriarty. Then she called it a 'plot' later. This isn't a clue but yet another confirmation that this was meant to be read by me. Only you and I could ha-"

Sherlock was interrupted by his phone. He reached in his pocket and answered his phone.

"Hello, Lestrade."

"We identified the blood under the nails—it was an accomplice like you said. Our detectives are just about done with him, you can have your turn."

"We'll be down right away." Sherlock started to hang up

"And Sherlock, I know it's a bit much to ask of you, but don't…. be you."

"Wh-w-" Lestrade hung up.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"How did you penetrate our quarters?" Said threatening voice, ignoring the conversation happening in the background through a radio.

"Oh, you ask me that question like it shouldn't have been possible," said the infamous dominatrix.

"I want to know how you managed to get passed all my men."

Irene smiled, "isn't it obvious?" She wriggled in her chair—the ropes and leathery lingerie being the only thing she had on.

The man didn't blink. "I don't care about your little sex-act. I know my men. They wouldn't be that easily corrupted. Now, what's your trick?" The man put his hands on either side of her on the arm rests of the chair and was breathing in her face.

"I just had a little something up my sleeve, you know, just in case."

The dark figure practically jumped away from her.

"Don't worry, I won't use it on you. I'm all out. But I have a question for you; what does it matter that I snuck in? "

"I know your love interest in Holmes. You were helping him."

"I promise you, beating a poor girl half to death has nothing to do with Sherlock Holmes." She lied.

"Oh but it does. Because you, my dear," he stroked her face, "are '_Sherlocked'."_

Irene's face went white as her interrogator smiled.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"I see you two had s lovely date last night." said Sherlock referring to Donovan and Anderson.

"What? How did yo-" Donovan began

"You think they can't smell you? I know that only one person wears that cheap cologne and I can smell it on both of you. Plus, Anderson saw me and he seemed too happy, Whatever you said (or did) Donovan…don't do it again. Him happy just ruins my day—Lestrade! Can I have a cigarette?"

"No!" John replied for him.

"I was going to say that…anyway, The boy is 17, I asked you to not be you because we can't decide if he is traumatized or messing with us. If he is traumatized, we don't want you to make it worse."

"Oh! I am not that bad-am I John?"

John gave him an unsure look.

"Just be a little considerate?" Asked Lestrade

"Aren't I always?" _translation: no._ Sherlock walked into the room where a young timid-looking kid. He had a long and thin stature. He wore some t-shirt and baggy skinny jeans. He didn't look up at Sherlock when he walked in—either from not-caring or from being terrified.

"They told me about you Holmes." The boy spoke as soon as the door was closed. "They prepared me for this."

"Who did?" Sherlock didn't really expect an answer that he didn't already know.

"I'm supposed to keep that a secret."

"I won't tell anyone." Sherlock said playing along.

"You don't want me to tell you, if I tell you she dies." The boy said looking up at Sherlock.

Sherlock tilted his head, "He's listening to us?"

The boy shook his head, lowered his voice, "To that camera, he's not but, what you can hear from me, yes. Shh, its our secret."

"You're a clever boy."

"No. Your words don't flatter me. I'm not the one who set this all up. I'm not the clever one." He said to Sherlock, indiscreetly referring to the Richard Brooke/Jim Moriarty idea that he had made it all up.

"Is he communicating with you right now?"

The boy smiled and stuck out a hand, "The name's Sebastian. I have your little girlfriend. She's a snappy, sly one. You have to options; you have enough information to find me, so find me, or you could wait and see what happens in 12 hours. Here's the twist, either way someone's going to die."

_**Author's Note**__: __**BUM, BUM, BUMMMMMMMMMMMMM. Sebastian is such a sly bastard. Also I don't really know how to characterize him so I kind of just made him how I pleased. But if you have any suggestions I would be more than happy to consider them :) Hopefully I'll have another chapter up in the next couple of days, but no promises. Thanks guys! **_


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